


absolutely disgusting

by primrosee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Mob AU, Someone dies, What's new, a short concept drabble, i might turn this into a whole story but???, john is a smartass, the world may never know, there's blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrosee/pseuds/primrosee
Summary: He owes you a new dress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to drake while i wrote this??? crazy right. "caelyn don't u like rock and indie?!?!?!?!" no i like fucking music.
> 
> anyway, enjoy this concept idea thingy??? that might be a whole story. who knows

“Why the fuck do you look like such a smarmy asshole? You want me to put a fucking bullet in your skull, or what?”

You lean back in the shitty, splintering wooden chair that you’re tied to by what is most possibly the weakest rope you’ve ever been tied to a chair by, smiling your best little asshole grin up at the man who is supposedly going to “put a bullet in your skull”—or rather, a fucking bullet, but you choose not to associate yourself with such obscenities—after all, you are quite the chivalrous person, a gentleman indeed. “You wouldn’t put a bullet in my skull,” you say, cocksure in the way you always are when you’ve been kidnapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t get your money. And that would be absolutely disastrous, wouldn’t it?”

The man whose name you’ve already forgotten grunts at you, changes the station on his shitty beater television to a shopping network. He presses his gun to your temple. You maintain your smile, because, as you know, he won’t shoot you. He doesn’t have the balls, doesn’t have the same cockiness that your husband does, isn’t as confident as him. “I’ll shoot you right now. You think I give a shit about the money?”

You give him a minute. “Well, I’d assume, you know? Since you went to all of the trouble to kidnap me. I’m sure your ransom price is high, right? I’d guess one million.”

He’s down to thirty seconds, but he doesn’t know it. He’s about as smart as a bag of rocks and doesn’t have the same view that you do, can’t see the red dot focused on his right temple. He has no idea he’s about to be sniped. You giggle about it, not unlike a schoolgirl, and he pulls a face. “Being cute ain’t gonna get you anywhere. I don’t need your shit. I have plenty of money and I don’t need money from the guy whose dick you suck professionally.”

You frown. Maybe twenty seconds now? It seems that Aradia—that’s the sniper you’d assume it is, at least, because she is Dave’s best—is having problems with her rifle. All in good time, though. The gun to your temple really doesn’t do much to deter your little shit attitude, the same one you give everyone, aside from Dave. Well, most of the time. “Did you just imply that I’m a whore? A prostitute? How dare you!” you’re fucking with him. Ten seconds, you’d say. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a married woman.”

He opens his mouth to say something, probably another quip that he thinks makes him witty but really just makes him an asshole, but he never gets to it because his head is blown off. You have blood on your face. And on your favorite dress! Disgusting—Dave so owes you. The door isn’t locked, but it gets broken down anyway. Your husband walks into the room like he owns the place, outfitted in a velvet suit that you think looks absolutely atrocious. God, you’re kidnapped for a day and his fashion sense goes to hell. “That’s the ugliest outfit I’ve ever seen,” you say, pointedly. Aradia is untying your ankles. She laughs softly. “Take it off.”

Dave raises an eyebrow at you. “What are you, my boss?”

You find that statement to be an obvious joke, because if he hasn’t realized by now that you have him wrapped around your little finger, he’s been living in a box. Aradia finishes untying the rope around your wrists and helps you stand, because she’s dealt with this before, knows that you’ll be a bit wobbly. “You got blood on me,” you tell her. “And my favorite dress. That means Dave owes me.”

“What the fuck kinda logic is that?” Dave inputs, even though no one asked for his two cents. “I just saved your damn life, you psychopath. Not even a thank you?”

You shrug. “I’m kind of tired of being kidnapped.”

“If it helps, I love you.”

“It doesn’t help.”

He makes a face. “You’re a dick.”

“The top dick in charge,” you respond, now, wiping the blood off of your face with both of your hands and wiping them on Dave’s suit, reiterating the fact that it’s hideous. He doesn’t even look mad at you, because he most likely isn’t. “I told you this suit was disgusting.”

“It was fine before you rubbed your bloody fucking hands all over it,” he gives back, immediately. You may only be four-nine, barely anything compared to his six-two, but you’ve got him by the balls—you have since you were thirteen. Some things don’t change, you suppose. “You’re taking it to the dry-cleaners.”

You roll your eyes. “As if.”

**Author's Note:**

> soRRY IT ENDED ABRUPTLY??? THIS WAS JUST A CONCEPT I MIGHT TURN IT INTO AN ENTIRE STORY????


End file.
